


Nine Guns

by LittleLynn



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Origins fic, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8212853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: Goodnight liked to say that they met in a bar fight, that he watched Billy take down a gang or sometimes even the whole bar with a single knife or just his hairpin or naught but his two hands. The story changed a little each time he told it. It was never how it actually happened, but it was how Goodnight liked to tell it, so Billy never amended it.He knew why Goodnight didn’t like to tell it how it had been. They both did. But if Goodnight needed to pretend something else, if that helped him to cope, then Billy sure as hell wasn’t going to remind him of something different.There had been a bar fight, at least.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well. This was not what I intended to do with my day. Oh Well.

 

Goodnight liked to say that they met in a bar fight, that he watched Billy take down a gang or sometimes even the whole bar with a single knife or just his hairpin or naught but his two hands. The story changed a little each time he told it. It was never how it actually happened, but it was how Goodnight liked to tell it, so Billy never amended it.

Goodnight always told him, after every time he told the altered story, that it was because it was ‘jazzier’ that way, more exciting, that all good stories deserved a bit of sprucing up.

Billy wasn’t sure why Goodnight always insisted on saying it to him when they both knew better. It took him a while to realise that Goodnight said it because he needed to believe it himself, because if he could get Billy to nod his head and say ‘of course’ then it felt a bit realer to him, like that could actually be the reason. So Billy would nod each time and say ‘of course’.

He knew why Goodnight didn’t like to tell it how it had been. They both did. But if Goodnight needed to pretend something else, if that helped him to cope, then Billy sure as hell wasn’t going to remind him of something different.

There had been a bar fight, at least.

He’d been just starting out doing the quick draw competitions, problem was, white men hated losing to white men, there wasn’t a word for how they felt about losing to other men.

 

“Chinaman!” Some red-faced hick yelled at where Billy was sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey.

Billy didn’t answer, he wasn’t from China anyway.

“You better gimme my money back you no good cheatin’ coward.” There were eight men at his back and Billy was alone, anyone who cared to look knew he was not the coward here, but of course no one was looking.

He hadn’t cheated. He didn’t need to cheat. He didn’t even bother pretending to be bad for a while to hustle the idiots who watched. He was just faster than they were, better than they were, plain and simple, and that was something far too many men couldn’t swallow.

“You lost. Buy yourself a drink and go nurse your wounded pride. Do not make me prove with more finality who is the quicker draw.” Billy wouldn’t do it unless the other man forced his hand, but he wasn’t about to end up a corpse on a dirty saloon floor either.

“Was that a threat?” The other man growled, grabbing Billy’s shoulder and forcing him to turn and face him, Billy’s face hardened, eyes narrowing as his pushed the man’s sweaty hand off from his shoulder. 

“Merely a caution.” Billy answered, he could see three of the men already reaching for their guns, including the one leading this confrontation. He had hoped it would not come to this.

A fourth started to reach for his gun and just when Billy was sure he would have to act, a stranger stepped between them.

“Now what here seems to be the problem gentlemen?” He said it with an easy manner, Billy barely spared him a glance, still focused on the men who had decided they wanted to kill him over a fair fight.

“You ain’t the marshal.” The man who had been accusing Billy, fingers on the handle of the gun at his front, Billy had no doubt his other hand was already wrapped around the one at his back.

“No I am not.” The stranger between them agreed, there was something tight around his eyes. “But I am a patron of this charmin’ establishment, and I’d hate to have to cut my stay short because of some trigger happy fightin.”

“I’m getting my dues, this chinaman cheated me.” The man spat at the floor, still glaring at Billy.

But then something happened that he did not expect, and the stranger spoke in his defense. People round here didn’t defend folks that weren’t white. Billy didn’t understand it, but it happened all the same.

“Well for one if I am correct he’s not from China, he’s Korean.” It surprised Billy, that he would be able to tell the difference, that he would care to bother to tell the difference. “And for two I saw that quick draw and he beat you fair an’ square.”

Billy worked hard to keep his disbelief off his face, to stop himself from gaping openly at the stranger and instead keeping his eyes trained on the threats in front of him. The man and his buddies looked even more riled up than they had before, more angry, Billy had a feeling all the stranger had done was give them two targets instead of one.

“I don’t know who – ” The red-faced leader started again, spitting at the floor and looking to the stranger now, but the stranger spoke again before he could finish.

“I suggest you just get your refreshments and leave mister Rocks here alone. You’ll have the thanks of Goodnight Robicheaux if you do.”    

That had quiet descend over the whole bar, the men who had been poised to start shooting now faltering over their weapons. Billy had never heard the name before, but it was clear that everyone else in the saloon had.

“We’re real sorry mister Robicheaux.” One of the men backing up the leader broke the silence, holstering his gun fully again and tugging away one of the other cowboys. “We meant no disrespect.”

Once the first two had moved off it didn’t take long for the rest of the group to disperse too. The leader looked like he wanted to say more, but he eyed Robicheaux warily and eventually pulled away too, though he looked more angry than before. Billy kept half an eye on him as he went to the bar with his buddies and they started ordering rounds.

The stranger – Robicheaux – let out a low whistle before turning a big smile on Billy, he noticed that some of the tightness around his eyes had eased, but only some.

“Well that was a close one.”

“Thank you.” Billy inclined his head, knowing he wouldn’t have gotten out of it without a fight without his intervention.

“Buy me a drink if you really wanna thank me.” Robicheaux’s smile turned to a grin as Billy flagged down the bar tender.

He followed Robicheaux back to where he had been sitting, a little booth in the corner, more secluded from the rest of the saloon. Billy realised that he must have been watching the whole saloon to know what was happening from this secluded spot. Though Billy couldn’t help but think there was another reason Robicheaux had defused the fight, he wasn’t used to people doing something for nothing. But still, he was grateful all the same.

“Why did you do that?” Billy asked, Robicheaux shrugged, running a hand through his scruffy hair.

“Like I said, I saw you win that draw fair. No need for bloodshed over a bruised ego,” he answered.

Billy was able to get a better look at him now, he looked tired around the eyes and his hair was flecked with grey, Robicheaux looked older than he did though Billy had a feeling they were near the same age. His beard was scruffy and he had the look of a man that spent most of his time on the road, worn and weathered.

“I think he’s ego may only be more bruised now.” Billy frowned, still keeping half an eye on his would be assailant, who was drinking steadily at the bar with the others, occasionally glowering in his direction.

“Probably.” Robicheaux agreed, they drank in silence for a short while, Billy had never been talkative, until Robicheaux spoke again. “You know, I assumed you’d ask me if I was telling the truth.”

“About what?” Billy asked, unsure what he was referring to, he wasn’t usually this receptive to chatter, he was surprising himself with how easily words came to speak with this man.

“About being Goodnight Robicheaux,” he clarified, and Billy had been curious about the weight the name obviously carried, but from the way the whole saloon had reacted, he had taken it on faith that he was.

“I don’t know who Goodnight Robicheaux is.”

“Now that is a breath of fresh air.” Robicheaux smiled at him again. “Aren’t you curious to know after all that?” he asked, but Billy could tell that he did not really want to share, he seemed glad to meet someone who didn’t know, who had no preconceived ideas about him, so Billy shook his head.

“I’m thankful to you for what you did, whoever you are.” Billy told him, and he saw as just some of the tightness in Robicheaux seemed to ease.

“You know I’ve never seen a man draw as fast as you.” Robicheaux changed the subject, raising an eyebrow at Billy.

“Neither have I.” Billy answered plainly, it startled a laugh out of Robicheaux. It seemed to catch him off guard, like he didn’t laugh so much these days. Billy could tell it was genuine, it looked good on him, he was glad to have repaid a kindness of sorts.

“No, I don’t suppose anyone has. You’re a better man than most too.” Robicheaux announced, like he could possibly know a thing about how good of a man Billy was.

Billy snorted softly and shook his head.

“I’m serious! If I had your talents, I’d be hustling these idiots for every penny in their pockets. But not you, oh no, you played it fair the whole way through, I saw.” He nodded, as if that was that.

“I have enough trouble with those I beat, even when it is fairly done.”

“Yeah I saw; you get that often?” Robicheaux asked, Billy nodded minutely. “What usually happens?”

“I don’t normally have the fortune to have someone intervene on my behalf, mister Robicheaux.” It was enough to answer the question, and the fact that Billy was still alive said all that needed knowing about how those confrontations usually went.

“Call me Goodnight,” he smiled again.

“Billy.”

The evening wore on and it grew dark outside. Usually Billy would have moved on from the town by now, but he found himself sitting in the saloon with Goodnight. It was a rare thing, for Billy to find someone who’s company he could tolerate, he found himself almost confused by the fact that he wasn’t tolerating Goodnight’s company, but enjoying it instead.

Goodnight did most of the talking, though Billy contributed when asked. He didn’t feel like such an outsider, with Goodnight speaking to him as if there was nothing different about them, speaking to him as an equal. It had been a long time since Billy had had the pleasure of it.

Goodnight said a lot and he also said nothing at all, though Billy was able to extrapolate a little about him as they sat there together. He would guess that Goodnight was in the war, it was the best explanation for where he had gained the reputation his name clearly held. Billy would even guess that he fought on the confederate side, though he found that hard to reconcile with Goodnight being the one to finally treat him like an equal person. He tried too hard to be easy-going that it was plain for Billy to see the tension he held constantly in his shoulders. He also noticed how Goodnight flinched when one of the tables was knocked over with a loud bang, though Goodnight tried hard to hide it.

For the first time, Billy found himself interested in another person. He wanted to know the answer to all of the questions he had about Goodnight, though he knew he had no right to ask. They barely knew each other; they’d only just met.

Goodnight was telling him about Louisiana and it must have been closing on midnight, when Billy saw the red-faced hick that had planned to attack him earlier stumbling towards them and fumbling with his gun, filled with hours’ worth of liquor that made him stupid.

Billy didn’t have time to speak, only enough to push Goodnight out of the way and duck himself as the drunken cowboy fired off his first shot. Billy’s hair pin was in his throat before he could shoot again, there was a moment of silence as people digested what had happened so suddenly, but then as the man fell to the floor and gurgled over his own blood, his intoxicated friends also started to draw their weapons.

Shots started firing and people started screaming, rushing for the exit or a safer vantage point on the stairs. Billy threw two of his knives, each of them landing squarely in the chests of two of the men firing at him. He drew one of his guns and shot another while spinning out of the way of the shots being fired by the five that were still standing. Their shots were wild and uncoordinated, firing off bullets while barely aiming, Billy’s were precise, he only used five more bullets.

The fight was not a long one, the whole thing likely only lasted thirty seconds, if that, before all the men attacking him were dead.

“Get out of my saloon chinaman.” The bar tender had a rifle raised, pointing shakily at him.

Billy loosed another knife before he could blink, pinning his sleeve to the wall behind him, making him drop his rifle in shock. He looked to the remaining patrons cowering on the stairs, they all eyed him with disgust, as if he had been the one to start the fight.

He needed to leave the town, he should have left straight after the competition.

Billy turned back to the booth, intending to apologise to Goodnight, to tell him he had to leave town now, there was no way he wouldn’t be blamed for this bloodshed. He had thought to find Goodnight getting up from where Billy had shoved him now that the fighting was done, maybe even to have gotten up and drawn his gun to assist if needed.

But he did not find what he expected.

Goodnight was sat with his back pressed into the wall shaking violently, eyes darting and unfocused.

“Goodnight?” Billy said tentatively, far too aware of the people watching them, knowing instinctively that Goodnight wouldn’t want them to see this, wouldn’t want anyone to see this.

“Didn’t stand a chance. Too many, I – ” He was muttering increasingly loudly, voice frantic.

“I think you’ve had enough, let’s get you to bed.” Billy said loud enough that he hoped the people still in the saloon not only heard it but believed it, that Goodnight Robicheaux was just drunk off his ass.

When he tried to take Goodnight’s arm he flinched heavily, eyes zeroing in on Billy, a small amount of himself seeming to come back, enough to warily allow Billy to help him to his feet anyway. Billy was strong, it wasn’t hard for him to take most of Goodnight’s weight and take him out of the saloon. He guided him away from the saloon, Goodnight’s legs growing gradually steadier after each step as Billy led them into a quiet alley near where he had left his horse, carefully lowering Goodnight down to sit.  

Silently Billy passed Goodnight his flask of water, Goodnight took it with unsteady hands. Slowly Goodnight returned to himself, his look of fear being replaced with one of embarrassment, anxiety, even trepidation, as if he was scared of what would come next; what Billy would say, the explanation he was bound to demand.

Billy did none of those things.

“I need to get out of town.” He said instead, Goodnight looked at him with barely veiled confusion, presumably over Billy’s choice of topic, not his need to leave town. “Will you be alright on your own?” He found himself caring too much about the answer, he wanted Goodnight to be alright, even though he clearly wasn’t.

“Have been so far.” Goodnight answered, it rang hollow to Billy’s ears.

“You got a horse?” Billy asked, though he knew he had, Goodnight looked like he lived mainly on the road.

“Yeah?”

“You want to come with me?” Billy hadn’t been sure he was going to say it until the words left his mouth, he was glad he did though.

“You _want_ me to come with you?” Goodnight’s confusion remained.

“I wouldn’t have asked. Make your decision quickly.” Billy pressed, someone would have reached the sheriff by now.

“My horse is just around the corner here.” Goodnight said in way of an answer.

“Good, same place as mine.” Billy nodded, offering Goodnight his hand. Goodnight took his, confusion still on his face but letting Billy pull him up from the ground.

It was only a few minutes before they were galloping away from the town as inconspicuously as they could manage.

Usually Billy didn’t like riding in the dark, it was dangerous not being able to see the terrain, but they needed to get a safe distance from the town, lest someone decide he was worth coming after. After a few hours, when Billy was satisfied that they were far enough not to be bothered if someone was pursuing them, they found a good enough place to stop for what was left of the night.

They unloaded their horses, letting them both have a drink from the stream they were near before Billy lit a small fire, setting down on the ground for the night. They hadn’t spoken since they left the town, Billy was patient, happy to wait until Goodnight knew what he wanted to say. He only heard him speak as he started to drift off to sleep, maybe the possibility of Billy being asleep had given him the courage to say it.

“Don’t you wanna know what happened back there.” Goodnight’s voice was as quiet as it was shaky, Billy didn’t open his eyes.

“Only if it’s something you want to say.” Billy answered, he knew what had happened back there, he’d seen it before, though far less serious. War, fighting, death – it all took its toll. He wouldn’t force Goodnight to talk about it unless he wanted to.

“I’ve done things – ”

“We all have.”

“But I – ”

“Goodnight?”

“Yeah?”

“Shh, I’m trying to sleep.” Billy smiled to himself as he heard Goodnight snort lightly, glad to know at least some of the tension must have eased with it.

“I knew you were a better man than most.” Billy heard him say before they both went quiet. He already knew that Goodnight was too, he’d help him if he could.

 It had been a long day, it didn’t take Billy long to drift off.

 

Billy was a light sleeper. If you’d spent as long on your own with as many people after your blood as Billy had, you’d be a light sleeper too. Some of the people Billy had met slept like the dead, Billy could never understand that, trusting the world so much that you slept soundly seemed naive and folly to him.

It was Billy’s light sleeping that woke him really, Goodnight wasn’t being that loud. But still, the quiet distressed noises he was making in his sleep were enough to wake Billy. At first he was confused, the sounds so alien to him he had trouble placing them, but when he looked across to where Goodnight was sleeping, the light from the dying fire was enough to make it clear to him. Goodnight’s face was contorted back into fear, much like the expression he had worn shaking in the saloon, he had a white knuckled grip on his thin blanket and he was sweating.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not- I’m not- ” Goodnight’s voice was quiet but clawing, desperate.

Billy didn’t know what he was supposed to do, he didn’t know if this had been triggered by the events of the day, or if Goodnight suffered through terrors every night. He wasn’t sure whether or not to wake him, how to comfort him, or even if he should.

Billy ended up keeping a vigil, sitting up and watching his friend, keeping a close read of him to check that whatever was haunting him was not getting worse. Eventually the dream seemed to subside, and after a while of peace, Billy let himself go back to sleep again.

It did not take many nights for Billy to discover that Goodnight fell prey to terrors most nights. Each time he kept a vigil over his new friend.

They rode together for days, moving slower than Billy would have on his own, but finding that he would not trade the company for solitude, an abnormal choice for him.

“I’ve been thinkin’.” Goodnight said, they were only an hour or so’s ride from the next town, the first one they would be stopping at since they met, where they could have a much needed stock up on supplies, where Billy could earn them a few coin.

“Always a bad sign.” Billy said dryly, making Goodnight laugh and reach over to slap his knee.

“If you want to still do these quick draw competitions, I know a way we could make even more money.” Goodnight started, Billy raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Yeah, I’ll call myself your manager and we’ll hustle them a bit, make them think you’re not as good as you are, then clean up on the betting money too.”

“You saw the trouble I attracted without hustling anyone.” Billy pointed out.

“But now you’ve got me, a free pass to the white man’s world. And I think few people are gunna try and take a shot at you with Goodnight Robicheaux at your back.”

“Do you remember what happened six days ago?” Billy asked, slightly amused with how quickly Goodnight seemed to have forgotten how they met.

“That’s why we’d need to get the fuck out before anyone had time to get drinking if there was considerable hostility to our actions.” Goodnight supplied and Billy looked to him, he looked hopeful, Billy realised this might be Goodnight’s way to trying to find a real reason for him to stay with Billy, to make himself feel useful.

“We can try it.” Billy conceded, and Goodnight whooped with a big grin making him roll his eyes.

They did try it, and it worked. Billy pretended to be Goodnight’s quick fingered manservant and they cleaned up the prize money, reigning in his abilities in the first rounds and upping the impossibility to the rounds allowing Goodnight to bet on him and win most of the betting pool money too. People didn’t have time to get angry at Billy, when they were too busy being in awe and slightly scared of Goodnight.

Goodnight insisted in splitting the money seventy thirty to Billy, insisting he did most of the work so he should get most of the cash, Billy wanted fifty fifty but didn’t argue, they kept it all together anyway, neither of them ever thought about it as one or the others, it was theirs.

They had been travelling together for two months when Billy learned more about Goodnight’s past, though not in the way he had wanted.

“Well I’ll be, if it isn’t Goodnight Robicheaux!” An obnoxious and loud voice interrupted the story Goodnight was telling him, Billy saw as Goodnight winced before plastering a smile on his face and turning. “It’s me! Shane Orten. I’ve not seen you in years. Not since the war. Where the hell you been?” Orten laughed loudly and Billy wondered if Goodnight would be able to get a word in anyway.

“Oh you know, here and there.” Goodnight evaded and Orten seemed to think this was hilarious, slapping Goodnight hard on the back as he laughed.

He barely spared Billy a glance, not bothering to hide the look of disgust that went over his features as he looked at Billy, before turning his back on him. Billy was used to it, he hardly noticed it anymore, but it clearly rankled Goodnight, who stepped away from Orten who didn’t seem to notice.

“Hey boys guess who this is!” Orten hollered across the saloon, beckoning to a group of younger looking men. “Goodnight Robicheaux!” They all looked impressed, leaving their drinks and moving over to join Orten and the increasingly uncomfortable looking Goodnight.

“ _The_ Goodnight Robicheaux?!” One of them shouted.

“You betcha. We were in the same regiment, I told ya, didn’t I tell ya! This asshole made over two hundred confirmed kills! The Angel of Death we called him. Really knew how to show them Union boys didn’t you Robicheaux.” Orten’s voice was loud and overbearing and Billy saw as Goodnight’s face lost some of its colour, how he stopped sending glances to Billy, he was afraid of what Billy would think of him now.

 “Something like that.” Goodnight muttered, grabbing for his glass and draining what was left of the whiskey.

“Best shot in the world he is, I’ve seen him make hits no one should have been able to do.” Orten continued to yell far louder than he needed to. “Shit I’ve got a rifle why don’t you go show these boys what you got.” Orten suggested and alarm bells immediately went off in Billy’s head, not because he thought Orten harboured Goodnight any (deliberate) ill-intent, but because he saw the way Goodnight lost more colour, the almost imperceptible shake in the glass he was still holding. 

All Billy could think about was how much he was failing his friend, he should be able to get him out of it, out of the situation his moronic old acquaintance was forcing him in to. But he didn’t know how, he didn’t know how to operate by their rules, when he couldn’t just tell them to fuck off and take Goodnight away from them.

“I don’t think – ”

“Come on Robicheaux, it’ll be great! Just like old times!” And with that Goodnight was being tugged out of the saloon and into the street, Billy followed in a flash, wishing there was some way he could get Goodnight out of this but knowing he would only make it worse, someone like him attempting to speak up for Goodnight Robicheaux wouldn’t be well received.

They set up a range almost the length of the town, though Orten insisted he’d seen Goodnight hit twice that distance before. What felt like the whole town was gathering along the sides of the street as Goodnight was abandoned in the middle to make the shot. He raised the rifle to aim and Billy knew two things in that moment. That Goodnight Robicheaux could make that shot in his sleep, and that Goodnight Robicheaux couldn’t pull the trigger any more.

No one was paying attention to him, so it was easy enough to take the shot himself, everyone had been so tense waiting and so giddy to see the shot hit its target that no one realised Goodnight’s gun had never fired. It didn’t take long for Goodnight to realise what had happened, a second’s confusion before looking to Billy, their eyes locked for a few moments before Goodnight was overwhelmed by admirers.

Billy came over as well, making up some rubbish about a problem with Goodnight’s horse which had to be seen to immediately to get him out of there. Three people told him not to speak out of turn, Orten told Goodnight to stop being so soft and teach his manservant proper conduct with the back of his hand. Billy ignored the comments, but by the time he had freed him from the crowd, Goodnight looked like he was going to be sick.

Billy saddled both their horses and made sure they had all their supplies before passing Goodnight the reigns, he knew Goodnight didn’t want to stay in this town any longer.  

They rode in silence for a while, and when they stopped to water their horses Goodnight was wringing his hands and looking as if he was fighting with himself.

“I have to tell you.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” Billy responded, stroking his horses’ mane.

“I do. It’s been months. I didn’t want you to find out like that. I should have told you before.”

“Find out what?”

“’Bout me. My history, the things people think I should be proud of. Jesus knows what you must think of me now.” Goodnight scrubbed a hand over his face and Billy suppressed the urge to take that hand in his own.

“I think the same thing I always have. That you’re my friend, that I can trust you. They’re the only things that really matter.”

“Over two hundred men Billy. Boys barely eighteen some. How can you even look at me given the side I fought for, the one that thinks people can be property.”

“I already figured you’d been in the war, and which side.”

“Then how can you sit there and – ”

“We fight on the sides we do because of where we are born. Because our brothers go to fight there, our fathers and friends. Because it’s the side that our mothers and sisters live on. It does not change the fact that you are the first person I’ve met over here to treat me as an equal, I will judge you on that, not the rest of it.” It was possibly the longest single thing Billy had ever said, and either that or his words of the combination had Goodnight faltering, before the wind seemed to leave his sails and he sat gingerly on the ground, head in his hands.

“I couldn’t make the shot. I mean I could make it. But I can’t pull the trigger anymore.”

“I know.” Billy said gently, sitting down next to him, their sides pressed together, hoping the closeness would comfort Goodnight some.

“I’m a sharpshooter that can’t pull the fucking trigger.” Goodnight laughed scathingly at himself. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“No Goody, you are not.” The name rolled off his tongue without thought and next to him Goodnight stopped protesting, slumping in on himself.

 

Three nights later Goodnight’s nightmare’s woke Billy as they usually did, but Billy could immediately feel that something was different. These weren’t the quiet noises of distress Billy had grown accustomed too, the ones he knew Goodnight had most nights, the ones he fought himself through before long. No, now across the campfire Goodnight was thrashing in his sleep, slurring out panicked words that made little sense to Billy and letting out strangled shouts for help, whines of pain.

Billy was up in a second, discarding his usual vigil and instead coming around the campfire, kneeling by Goodnight’s side and throwing away his caution in favour of waking him.

“Goody, wake up Goody, it’s okay.” Billy shook him gently and cooed quietly in his ear, not wanted to wrench him into wakefulness to fast but wanting to draw him out from his nightmare too.

“I never meant – ” Goodnight grabbed Billy’s wrist and cried out, his eyes were open but he was still in the past.

“It’s okay Goody, I know.” Billy brushed Goodnight’s sweaty fringe back from his forehead and noticed the cold sweat he was in. “Wake up for me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know – ” Goodnight’s eyes darted around, his grip on Billy’s wrist unrelenting as he started to come back to himself, waking up properly.

“You’re with me, the war’s over. It’s okay.”

“B-billy?” Goodnight’s eyes were blinking into focus, it sounded as though he had just remembered the name, remembered that it was important.

“Yes. I’m here.”

“S-shit.” Goodnight said shakily, releasing Billy’s wrist and trying to put some space between them, as if he had forced Billy into his space, as if he hadn’t come willingly.

“It’s fine Goody.”

“It’s not fine. I didn’t mean to wake you, I don’t normally have ‘em.” Goodnight lied and Billy sighed, deciding it was finally time for them to address this.

“Yes you do. You have them most nights. Although this is the worst I have seen.” Billy said simply, Goodnight looked mortified.

“Shit. I’m sorry Billy.”

“Stop apologising for something which you need not be sorry for.” Billy said as he saw yet another apology ready to fall from Goodnight’s lips, before continuing more gently. “Are you okay?”

“I was back there.” Goodnight swallowed thickly, Billy had guessed as much. “They always take me back there. The fighting and the killing, everything was so loud. My brother died right in front of me. But still I killed so many people, other people’s brothers. You couldn’t keep track of anything there was just dirt and blood and noise.”

“I am sorry.” Billy said softly, moving to sit beside Goodnight again, his back to the stone behind them.

“I don’t deserve sorry.”

“Yes you do. I am sorry you went through it. I’m sorry about what they made you do.”

“Nobody made me do nothin’.” Goodnight shook his head before scrubbing a hand viciously over his eyes, like he could rub out the images, this time Billy did take his hand and hold it, to stop him hurting his own eyes with his nails. The new contact made Goodnight’s defences lower further. “I can still see them Billy. Every face. Which isn’t even possible because I didn’t get close enough to see a lot of them, but still, I can see them now.” Goodnight’s shoulders were shaking and Billy wrapped an arm around them.

“You would not feel this way, if you were not a good man.” Billy told him and Goodnight slumped into his side, Billy letting him hide the tears that were tracking down his face.

“Why’d you wanna travel with someone like me Billy? I’m nothing but a coward.” Goodnight’s voice was hoarse when he spoke again.

“You stood between me and nine guns when we were only strangers. That is not the actions of a coward.” Billy reminded him, continuing before Goodnight could somehow claim that it was. “The actions of a fool perhaps, but not a coward.” He teased, loosing a small laugh from Goodnight.

“You think I’m foolish Billy Rocks?”

“Of course. I think you are a great many things. Foolish, overly talkative, trustworthy, charming, earnest, gentle and kind. But never a coward, I have never thought you that.”

“I’m not – ”

“I also know that you are a little broken. That life has hurt you in ways most people will not understand, that you have scars that do not exist in your skin and old wounds which still cut you deeply. None of this makes you a coward and I will stand by you, I will stay with you and look after you, if you let me.” Billy told him sincerely, he felt as Goodnight both relaxed and tensed beside him, he understood why, but now was not right for that.

“Billy, I – ”

“Go to sleep Goody.”

Goodnight did, slumped against Billy’s side he slept sounder than Billy had ever seen him.

Things changed after that and they didn’t. Each night they were on the road Billy would set down his blanket next to Goodnight’s instead of on the other side of the fire and each time Goodnight would look relieved. They didn’t talk about it. About the way they slept curled together or how Goodnights nightmares happened more infrequently, and when they did, how Billy could chase most of them away with a hand stroking through Goodnight’s hair and a murmur in his ear.

Goodnight didn’t call himself a coward so often, though Billy could still see the accusation to himself in Goody’s eyes far too often. He drank too much as well, Billy had known that for a while, he tried to temper it as best he could, not liking the white knuckled grip Goodnight would get on his glass sometimes. It would be better for Goodnight to lean on him, instead of the booze, he knew that would take a while to achieve, but Billy thought he could manage it eventually.

Normally when Goodnight drank it was after something had happened, a gunshot startling him, an old friend from the war determined to reminisce, someone hearing his name and trying to get him to show off his sharpshooting. Tonight was different though, because none of those things had happened but Goodnight was throwing back his drink anyway, trying to get Billy to join him.

“Come on Billy, loosen up.” Goodnight slurred merrily, but by now Billy knew him too well to not notice the jittery nervousness in his actions, only this time Billy was unsure what was causing it.

“No.” Billy refused. “You should tell me what is bothering you Goody.” Billy said, using the nickname in an attempt to draw a confession out of Goodnight, knowing he liked it when Billy called him that, that it made him go soft.

“Nothing is bothering me.” Goodnight lied around a grin, Billy scowled and shook his head.

It was difficult when they were in towns, when he was supposed to be Goodnight’s subordinate, to get him to stop drinking and leave with him, without it looking strange to those around them. It would be easier if the saloon was busier, people would be less likely to pay attention or notice if the place was nosier.

Goodnight was being loud and overbearing, Billy could tell that it was fuelled by anxiety, though over what he could not say. He was torn between going up to their room in the hope that Goodnight would follow him, and not wanting to leave Goodnight alone in case something was genuinely making him nervous.

Goodnight started singing along to whatever song it was that the pianist was playing and throwing back another glass of whiskey.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Billy said more firmly, catching Goodnight’s wrist carefully as he went to get himself another.

“Oh c’mon Billy.” Goodnight pleaded drunkenly, looking at Billy with wide eyes that never worked on him, at least in this scenario.

“No Goody. Just tell me what’s wrong.” Billy replied and for a moment Goodnight seemed to teeter on the edge of telling Billy, before rethinking it and flagging down the bartender again.

“Where’re you goin’?” Goodnight asked in confusion as Billy stood from their table.

“To bed. Enjoy your drink.” He added sarcastically, frustrated at Goodnight’s refusal to speak to him about what was bothering him.

He brushed off the hand Goodnight was holding onto his sleeve with and went up the stairs to the room they were paying for for the night, ignoring Goodnight’s helpless expression and hoping he followed. Billy sat down on one of the two narrow beds in the room and tugged the deadly pin out of his hair, setting it down with his knives and letting his hair loose for the night. He was shedding his waistcoat when a jumbled knock came on the door.

“Billy ‘m sorry. Lemme in.” Goodnight implored drunkenly and Billy sighed, walking the two short paces to the door and opening it, allowing Goodnight to stumble in before shutting the door behind him again. “Sorry.” He mumbled again.

Billy ignored him and went back to preparing for bed, Goodnight hovering awkwardly near the door.

“You mad at me Billy?” Goodnight asked, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy and making Billy sigh again, he had never sighed this much until meeting Goodnight.

“No Goody. I just wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothin’s wrong.”

“Then why are you acting all nervous.”

“I’m such a coward.”

“No Goody. No. You’re not. You’re – ”

“Just listen would you Billy. It’s not what you think.” Goodnight insisted and Billy relented, waiting for Goodnight to finish his speech before showing him he was wrong about himself. Goodnight took a deep breath and ploughed on, as if if he didn’t speak quickly he’d never say it. “I’m a coward because if I weren’t I wouldn’t have needed to drink all that to get the courage to do this.”

“Do what?”

Billy’s question was answered as he watched Goodnight throw caution to the wind and surge forward, wrapping Billy up in a kiss that was sloppy and uncoordinated from alcohol. Goodnight made a desperate noise and Billy kissed him back, trying to calm Goodnight’s franticness, before gently pushing Goodnight away.

“Not like this.” Billy shook his head a little.

“Oh shit, I thought – ” Goodnight’s face went red with embarrassment and panic, he looked like a spooked horse ready to bolt, Billy caught one of his hands.

“You thought right. But not like this, not after an entire bottle of whiskey. Not when you’re drunk.” Billy clarified, the panic fading from Goodnight’s face and leaving him only embarrassed.

“Fuck ‘m such an idiot.”

“It’s okay. I like that you’re a little foolish sometimes.” Billy smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to Goodnight’s cheek and easing some of his embarrassment.

They shared one of the narrow beds, curled up together to keep from falling off, Billy unable to shift his small smile.

Goodnight complained constantly the next morning of his headache and hangover, Billy guessed it was only in part due to how he felt and far more nervous babble to keep from talking about what he had done the night before. When Goodnight continued to verbalise his stream of consciousness well into the day Billy took his hand and squeezed it, pressing another little kiss to his cheek.

“Please shut up.” He then smiled, Goodnight laughed, it sounded cathartic.

They rode through the day, heading towards the next town, a few days’ ride away setting up camp as the night drew in around them. Over their dinner Goodnight asked Billy to teach him more Korean, and Billy obliged as he always did, touched that Goodnight was so keen to learn, even though he was awful at it.

They set their bedroll’s down next to each other as they always did, Billy lying down comfortably on his back and waiting for Goodnight to decide how he wanted to sleep tonight. But instead Goodnight lay down on his side, facing Billy, propping his head up on one hand, Billy waited for him to speak.

“I’m not drunk tonight.”

“No, you are not.” Billy agreed, rolling on to his side to face Goodnight, both of them only slightly illuminated by the small fire.

“Are you gunna push me away again?” Goodnight asked, genuine apprehension in his voice, it made Billy understand how much it meant to Goody that he didn’t push Billy away with his actions.

“You’re not drunk tonight.” Billy said, he hadn’t wanted to push Goodnight away before either, he hadn’t wanted Goodnight to regret it in the morning more so though, he hadn’t wanted it to become a shameful thing between them, something which Goodnight needed to be drunk to do.

Goodnight tucked an errant lock of Billy’s loose long hair behind his ear and closed the scant gap between them, kissing Billy again. It was better than before, slower, more careful. Billy felt the scrape of Goodnight’s beard and felt the softness of lips that should have been chapped from the heat but never were, instead they were as soft as Goodnight’s heart.

One of Goodnight’s rough hands came up and sunk into Billy’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his tongue dipping into Billy’s mouth, he tasted of the dinner they’d just had and the river they’d washed in and something that felt like home to Billy. Billy pushed Goodnight’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back and straddling his waist, leaving them in a much easier position to kiss, Goodnight moaning into his mouth as Billy nipped at his lips.

Billy pulled back, dragging Goodnight’s bottom lip a little way as he did. Goodnight already looked a mess, his face flushed and pupils blown, looking up at Billy liked he couldn’t quite believe he existed. Billy gave Goodnight a wicked grin and braced his hands on Goodnight’s lean chest as he rolled his hips down hard against Goodnight.

“Fuck Billy.” Goodnight gasped, hands flying to Billy’s trim waist. They slept in their clothes on the road but Billy could feel Goodnight growing hard through their layers, grinding down against him smirking to himself as Goodnight tried to hold back his moans.

“No one can hear us out here.” Billy leaned down to murmur in Goodnight’s ear, dragging his hips in a slow grind against Goodnight.

“You’re a goddamn tease Billy.” Goodnight groaned, his hands on Billy’s hips trying to urge him faster to no avail.

“Patience is a virtue.” Billy drawled.

“Yeah well it ain’t one of mine.” Goodnight growled and before Billy could react he had them flipped, Billy trapped under Goodnight, his legs bracketing Goodnight’s hips.

Billy raised an eyebrow up at him in a challenge, one of his hands snaking between them and squeezing over Goodnight’s hard prick. Goodnight groaned and dove down to kiss Billy again, fucking into his mouth with his tongue and rutting against him as Billy’s hands scratched down his back.

“I’ve wanted you for months.” Goodnight confessed, panting into Billy’s neck, breath hitching as Billy’s hands started undoing the fastenings on his trousers.

“The feeling was mutual.” Billy assured, voice far breather than he had realised.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I don’t know what in hell you’re doing with me but I ain’t never gunna let you go.” Goodnight panted, his hands grabbing at Billy’s trousers.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Billy murmured, cutting off whatever Goodnight had been about to say as he shoved Goodnight's trousers down and got a hand around his hard cock, running his fingers through the precome already leaking from the tip and giving him a firm stroke, leaving Goodnight groaning into the side of his neck.

“You tryna kill me Billy?” Goodnight huffed as Billy’s hand stopped as suddenly as it started.

“Just waiting for you to catch up old man.” Billy smirked and Goodnight tried to scowl, but couldn’t wipe the fondness off his face to do it.

“We’re the same age.” He grumbled, even as he undid Billy’s trousers.

“Then why are you so slow.” Billy gave him another wicked grin, Goodnight kissed it off his face, distracting Billy and leaving him unprepared for the warm hand that wrapped around his cock and pulled.

He gasped into Goodnight’s mouth and could feel his answering smirk as Billy bucked up into his hand.

Billy tugged at Goodnight’s hand and gave a frustrated noise when he didn’t budge, keeping it wrapped around Billy. “Give me your hand.” He said impatiently, Goodnight paid him a look of confusion but let Billy guide his hand.

The confusion quickly melted into lust as Billy brought the hand to his mouth and licked across his palm before sucking each of his fingers into his mouth.

“Fuck Billy you really are trying to kill me.” Goodnight choked around his words.

“Like this.” Billy murmured, guiding Goodnight’s hand to wrap around the both of them and stroke, letting his head fall back as pleasure sparked through him.

Billy wet his own hand and slipped it between them both to join Goodnight’s, their cocks pressed together as they slid through the tight and wet grip of their hands. Goodnight was panting heavily into his neck, Billy letting his own moans slip past his lips unchecked as he let himself go in the safety of Goodnight’s arms.

“I want to get you in a bed, take my time with you.” Goodnight whispered in his ear, both of them fucking freely into their joined hands, the slick sounds obscene in the otherwise quiet night.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanna take you apart get you to lose all that calm.”

“You will.” Billy knew if anyone would be able to it was Goodnight, here he was right now, in the dirt falling apart from naught but his hand and his words, they didn’t need a bed.

Billy urged their hands to move faster, feeling himself tighten as he got closer, Goodnight’s movements becoming more frantic too. It had been a long time for both of them, that was no secret. They’d been together for months and there had been no women, no other men, their worlds had narrowed down to each other without really realising it.

Billy realised it now and he was glad of it, he didn’t want anyone else, he didn’t want Goodnight to want anyone else.

Billy used his free hand to guide Goodnight’s mouth to his, both too close to the edge to kiss properly, but it felt good to have him there anyway, foreheads pressing together as Goodnight drove into their fist harder, dragging his cock along Billy’s faster and faster until Billy squeezed and thumbed over the tip of Goodnight’s cock, leaving him shouting as he came in hard spurts over Billy’s hand and shirt. The feeling of Goodnight’s cock throbbing as he came was enough to finish Billy as well, his climax making him gasp and tighten his legs around Goodnight.

Goodnight collapsed to the side of Billy and dragged him over to rest his head on Goodnight’s chest, Billy could still hear his heart hammering, even as Goodnight stroke his hand through Billy’s hair.

After a while Billy sat up and tucked himself back into his trousers and doing the same for Goodnight who didn’t seem inclined to move ever again, before lying back down with his head pillowed on Goodnight’s chest, right over his heart.

“I think we ruined my shirt.” Billy commented as they started to drift off, Goodnight’s laugh vibrated in his chest and he pressed a kiss to the top of Billy’s head, it was a good way to fall asleep.

They woke the next morning as they had fallen asleep and Billy did decide to discard the shirt, pulling another out of his bag with Goodnight promising to buy him a new one in the next town.

“We both ruined it. I should pay half.” Billy pointed out as he shrugged on the shirt.

“Just let me buy you something, please, for once.” Goodnight laughed and Billy rolled his eyes but didn’t protest any more, blaming the early sun for his blush when Goodnight kissed him unexpectedly.

They were packing up the last of their things when Goodnight spoke again, wringing his hands in that nervous tick of his.

“You know I love you, right?” He asked, Billy reached over and stilled his hands.

“I know.” Billy smiled, Goodnight steaming on before he could return the sentiment.

“I have for a long time. Like a long long time.”

“I know that too.” Billy said and looked on in fond amusement as Goodnight kept babbling in his nervousness that Billy wouldn’t say the same.

“Shit Billy I think I loved you by the end of that first day. I’ve never met someone who – ”

“Goodnight?” Billy cut in, ending his anxious stream of words, Goodnight focused his eyes in on Billy. “I love you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“But _why_. I’m in awe of you, you’re like, shit I don’t know Billy you make me feel like maybe I’m not such a failure, like if you think I’m okay then maybe I really am. Do you know how long it was since I smiled a real smile before you came along? But what do I give to you, I’m a soldier that can’t fire a gun, I drink too much, I wake you up almost every night with my shouting and every time someone drops something I’m like a goddamn rabbit I get so spooked. How could you love me?” Goodnight’s expression was helpless, it made Billy’s chest clench and hurt for him.

“Do you know how long I’ve been in America?” Billy asked, and Goodnight looked bewildered by the change of subject.

“You said you came here when you were ten.” Goodnight answered, Billy had told him that months ago, Goodnight never forgot anything Billy told him.

“Since I was ten I never felt like I had a home. I felt like a trespasser out here, in a place where no one wanted me to be, never owning more than I could fit in my bag. I was drifting on my own for over thirty years.”

“I don’t – ”

“That’s why I love you Goody. You’re home, you feel like home.”

“Oh.” Goodnight said dumbly, Billy smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth before putting Goodnight's stetson back on his head.

“Now come on, you said something about a bed and we’re still a day’s ride from the next town.” Billy smirked, it turning into a full laugh as Goodnight swung himself up onto his horse and immediately started a fast gallop.

He shook his head and couldn’t shift his own smile as he mounted his own horse and started riding after him at a far more sedate pace.

It was a good day, and not all of them were. Sometimes Goody’s demons were too close to his heels no matter what Billy tried to do to soothe them away. And there were times when Billy was sure that Goodnight’s day shocks were getting worse even as his nightmares gradually got better. Goody drank less frequently but more heavily when he did and Billy didn’t know if that was good or bad or just Goody.

On the good days it was like Goodnight didn’t have a care in the world, how Billy imagined he was before the war, but not all the days were good. Days that were particularly bad left Goodnight convinced Billy was going to leave him, he would promise to get better and Billy would tell him that he wasn’t leaving, that he never would, that Goody was still home, no matter his scars.

 

Goodnight always told a different story of how they met, embellished it differently every time and Billy was always more heroic in each.

But Billy preferred the one where a stranger stood between him and nine guns.

    

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, there is a chance that if people like and my inspiration doesn't run dry then I might add another few chapters to turn it into a fix-it fic because my heart hurts, so lemme know what you think and we'll see how it goes! <3
> 
> [tumblr](http://shadyanne.tumblr.com/) \- feel free to come for a chat, this ship is far too small!
> 
> Also I feel like I should mention that I do prompt fills, so feel free to send me an ask on tumbles if there is anything you want written for these two and I'll see what I can do <3


End file.
